Daddy Issues
by Lady-Aurora-Pendragon
Summary: (Set after Death Wish:) Trevor's drug deal went bad, so he, Michael and Franklin did the only thing they knew how to do; Get him! After a shoot out which rendered Franklin unconscious, Trevor was left alone in the house...where he found something rather unexpected. Fast forward seven years, Trisha De Santa Philips just wanted a normal life, but not with "Dad's" like hers.
1. Chapter 1

(DISCLAIMER: I have never written a story about a video game before, but I assume it is the same old thing; I don't own anything, hence why I am on a fanfic site. Anyway, I, again, haven't written about a video game before, and am also more new to the GTA (mostly just V) scene, so I have no idea how this story will go over, I am pretty much just writing this for my sister, who gave me the prompt: "What if Trevor stole a kid and Michael (and Franklin) helped him raise it and took it on heists with them?" And this is how this came to be, of course it will be a little bit different than that. I have no idea what will happen, really, or if I will continue posting it or not, I am really just having some fun with it right now. I wanted it to be as true to the game as possible, or at least I'm trying to, so the beginning of this story starts pretty much right after the game ends, with option C, (Death Wish,) obviously, because I don't believe in any other option. I would really like some feedback, I once again, have no idea how big the fan base is for GTA V here, I know that it is still pretty popular on YouTube, but other than that...I have no idea, but, yes, some feedback would be greatly appreciated, also, let me know if you would like this story to continue? I might just post it so I don't lose it. but anyways. Thanks! And obviously it will be rated M, because it's a story about Grand Theft Auto! I have no control over that! ENJOY! :))

* * *

 _ **Part 1. Mission: Crystal Meth.**_

 _What the fuck?_

 _What the fuck was this?!_

Trevor was pissed, more than pissed he was...he was infuriated, damn it! He stood rooted in the front of his office, hands clutching the rifle he had grabbed as the man ran and dove into his car. He was out of the parking spot and going down the street before Trevor could shoot out his tires, or him in the head. He wasn't really picky as to which he hit. He couldn't believe this, this bitch was running away with his goods. That was good meth! The best fucking meth around!

Trevor uprooted himself, swearing curse word after curse word at the street, dust flying from the man's tires. _"Ooh, Petters!"_ He shook his fist as he turned the key, in his truck now. He stomped on the gas, not paying attention to the road, as he sped down the street, but his phone instead. He dialed a number in his contact list, one that had just called him, and ruined his deal.

"T?" The voice answered the phone with confusion. This only pissed Trevor off more. "What, didn't get enough of telling me how much you hate me the first time, you had to call back?"

"Fuck you, Michael!" Trevor yelled into the phone, driving in between cars on the two lane highway. "FUCK YOU!"

"I got that much the first time!" Michael retorted, in that sarcastic tone that was so obviously fake. "If that's all, I'll hang the fuck up now."

"YOU FUCKED UP MY DEAL, YOU...YOU...OOEEEH!" Trevor roared with anger. He looked left, he looked right, all around, and noticed he was chasing the wind, Petters was completely gone, off with _his_ money.

"Look, T, I get you're upset," Michael was saying now, though Trevor could hardly hear it, he was seething. "But how the _fuck_ was I supposed to know you were doin' a deal?!"

"Go fuck yourself!"

"I'll call Lester," Michael continued."Maybe he can get a current address. What'd you say this guys name was?"

Trevor tried to calm himself down, let go of some of that ever present anger he felt toward Michael...it never worked when he tried. "I didn't."

"Trevor, don't be an asshole."

Trevor took in a breath and cleared his throat, "Petters, George Petters... _yooou fuck!_ "

"Give me an hour," Michael hung up and Trevor glared at the road, as he slammed on his brakes, causing the person behind him to do the same, and turned around in the middle of the road, heading back to his office.

 _ **XXX**_

Trevor was asleep on his nasty couch when Michael walked in, Franklin trailing behind him. This place really was the like most disgusting pits of hell, just like it's owner. With it's peeling puke colored wallpaper and cockroach crusted floors, it smelled like dead rats. Michael mentally plugged his nose before coming inside.

"Yo, Trevor, Dogg, we're here, homie!" Franklin called out, but he was probably in some drug induced coma and couldn't hear him, Michael looked around for something that would wake him up. The shot gun latched to Michael's belt came to mind, he pulled it up and cocked it. "Mike, what the fuck...?!"

"What?" Michael retorted, with a light chuckle, but the look on Franklin's face made him sigh. "Alright...alright. Jesus!"

Instead, Michael walked over to the half empty whiskey bottle on the computer desk and looked at Franklin, who raised a challenging eyebrow, he didn't bother fighting it though, just rolled his eyes and took a few steps back. Michael took a sip of the amber substance before turning the bottle over and a stream poured over Trevor's face.

It took him a minute to react, but then he let out a very over-dramatic _arggg_ and rolled onto the floor.

"'bout fuckin' time!" Michael set down the bottle, as Trevor staggered to his feet and if looks could kill...then just looking at this bastard, you would drop dead, and that's on his best days, which were never.

"Yooou motherfucker!"

"Oh, fuck you, T!"

"Fuck me?" Trevor retorted, angerly. "Fuck me?!"

"Man, fuck both ya'll!" Franklin retorted, losing his patience, as he so topically did when with these two. "I brought my ass up here 'cause Michael said you needed our help, but if you two are just gonna bitch at each other, like always-"

"It's not bitching, this is how we make love," Trevor retorted, in an almost serious tone. "Was it good for you, Sugar Tits?"

"Go fuck yourself!"

"That means yes..."

"Common, man!" Franklin expressed his displeasure. "Be serious."

"He doesn't know how," Michael explained, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, it had his own green inked scribbles on It. "His brain isn't wired right." Trevor glared at him, but Michael continued before he could talk. "This is the address of the guy, George Petters."

He shoved it into Trevor's dirty hands and walked over to Franklin. Trevor looked it over, "What are we still doing here?" He asked then, in his grough voice. "LET'S GET A MOVE ON IT, LADIES!"

 **XXX**

that hadn't gone as planned, there hadn't really been a plan, but if there had been a plan, it couldn't have gotten more fucked up. Michael raced down the street, toward Trevor's trailer, Franklin half unconscious in the backseat. Trevor wasn't there, Michael had to leave him behind in order to get Franklin out, it had been a tough call, but Trevor would be fine. It some sick way Michael was pretty sure Trevor was enjoying himself, terrorizing a house full of crackheads, that was his kind of party.

Michael skidded the car to a stop and got out, ignoring the smell of Trevor's home and the overall trailer trash of it all, and pulled open the car door, yanking and pulling Franklin out of the car. He had been hit with some sort of stink bomb. It went off right in his face, and he went out like a light. Franklin half walked and the other half dragged inside. Michael sat him down and promptly pulled out his phone, calling Trevor.

"Michael, man..." Franklin slurred. "What the fuck was in that bomb?"

"No idea," he answered, getting sent to Trevor's voicemail. "Fuck!"

"Where's T...?"

"On his way, just relax."

 **XXX**

"What?" Trevor yelled out the back door of Petters house, as three men jumped over the hedge and ran off. "WELL, IF YOU CAN'T HANG!"

He turned around, stepping over a body as he walked back into the living room. "I guess it's just you and me, Sweet Cheeks," he referred to the woman sitting on the couch, she had blood on her face that was not her own. Her husband lay dead on the floor, at her feet.

"You're a fucking psychopath!" she yelled, as he toyed with the gun in his hand. She let out a scream, stood up, pushed him out of the way and ran out the back door as well.

"I prefer sociopath!" he called after her, not bothering to follow her. She wasn't worth it. He stepped over her dead husband and walked down the hall. He had heard something, he wasn't sure what it was, but it had definitely been something. He walked into a bedroom that had white clouds on the ceiling. "Fucking stoners..." he heard it again, like a little coo, and it was coming from the closet. "Are you hiding, YOOOU FUCKING PRICK?!"

He yanked open the closet, gun ready, but what he came face to face with was...a bunch of shirts, but below that was a kid. "Can I come out now?"

"What?" Trevor barked back. "What the hell are you doing in there?!"

"Mommy always puts me in the closet when Daddy's friends come over," the girl explained, causally. "She doesn't think I know what's going on..."

Trevor's face froze up, mouth half hung open, he was perplexed, very perplexed. The girl looked up at him, amused.

"You look like a toad."

"Fuck you!"

"Sorry," she giggled, picking up a stuffed teddy bear off the closet floor. "And don't swear, I'm only seven."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to talk to strangers?" Trevor enquired, at a loss, just a complete fu- effing loss.

The girl shrugged. "No, not really..." she gave Trevor's appalled look a smile. "Wanna say hello to Mrs. P?"

Trevor looked down at the bear that she now offered him. "No..."

 **XXX**

"My...fuckin'...head," Franklin groaned, walking back and forth in the trailer, Michael sat on the couch, watching the clock on his phone, it had been twenty five minutes since he had called Trevor, he was beginning to get nervous. Which was a pretty big understatement, he was fucking terrified. "Where is that fool?" Franklin continued talking, he had said that six times now. " _Man_..."

Michael shook his head, maybe he should have gone back for him. But it was too late now.

The was a crash, like someone had ran into the garage outside. Franklin ran over to the window and moved the blinds to look out. "It's his truck!" He announced, and Michael took a breath he didn't like to think that he was holding. But he was. "What the fuck's he carrying?!"

Michael wasn't really listening to Franklin now, he was worried he was having a heart attack, and if Trevor's shit put him in a grave now, Michael was going to kick his ass. There was a bang right outside the front door and then the door burst open. Trevor walked in, looking more grungy than ever, if that was possible, and in his arms...was a body. He shooed Michael from the couch and laid her down.

It was definitely a girl, with her long blonde hair, Michael and Franklin both stared.

"...what?"

"What the hell is that?!" Franklin yelled. "Is that a fuckin' kid, homie?".

"Yeah," Trevor nodded, looking at them back and forth, like he didn't understand why they looked so concerned. "Her name's Crystal. Not very original...I like Trisha better."

"I always knew you were fucking nuts," Michael started, feeling a substantial pain In the center of his forehead. "But kidnapping a fucking kid, T. ARE YOU INSANE?!" He held up his hand when Trevor went to talk and looked at the girl, who hadn't moved once, since he lad laid her down. "What the fuck did you do to'er?!"

"Nothing!" Trevor retorted. "She fell asleep on the way here...or ate something off the floor, I'm not sure..."

"What?!" Michael and Franklin both yelled, at the same time.

"She was complaining she was hungry and then fell asleep..." Trevor over dramatically threw up his arms in a shrug. "She's not dead, I checked."

Franklin 's eyes widdened, as he turned to Michael. Why was it always Michael that had to handle Trevor's bullshit? "You have to take her back."

"No can-do, Mikey, old buddy," Trevor walked over to his counter, and picked up a already opened beer and took a drink. When he noticed Michael was watching him, imploringly, he continued. "They had her in a closet, Mike!"

"Maybe because three motherfuckers came shot up their house?" Franklin offered, Trevor gave him a dirty look.

"Frank agrees with me, T," Michael tried to smooth it over, before Trevor threw a fit. "You gotta give her back."

"Of course he agrees with you!" Trevor retorted. "He **is** you. _He is a mini you_!"

"Mini?!" Franklin retorted, annoyed now. "Shit, I could take either of ya'lls asses any day..."

"Is that so, big boy?" Trevor retorted. "Give it a shot...hom-E!"

"Trevor!" Micheal scolded. "Shut the fuck up!"

Trevor growled. "I can't give her back, alright? Her parents are gone..."

"You killed them?!"

"You two helped...!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2. Mission: First Heist.**

Trevor drove up the posh streets of Rockford Hills, with the dirty, rusted and old, it looked like it was from the eighties, car he stole from one of his neighbors. The gate to Michael's house automatically opened for him, as if it was expecting him, and he drove up the red bricked drive, purposely running over a flower pot that had been sitting on the edge of the driveway, he honked. Trisha, in the back seat, groaned, not wanting any part of this. But Trevor was hard to argue with, he was insisting, rude, threatening and childish all rolled up into one insane man. It wasn't fair, how was she supposed to go through the ups, downs and puberty of teenage-hood with this guy as her father?

And then there was Michael, coming down the stairs, wearing an all black suit with no tie and a irritated look on his face, which he always sported when with Trevor, not that Trisha could blame him. Along with Trevor, Michael was also supposed to be her dad, why exactly this was...well, it really all boiled down to Trevor trying to piss Michael off, and it just sticking. Not that she saw Trevor or Michael as a father, more of the obscene relatives. Not even uncles, distant, very distant, relatives. The position of uncle had already been claimed by Franklin anyway, who, years ago, at this point, refused to be her third dad.

"Trisha, Sweetheart," Michael announced as he got in the car, looking over his shoulder at her and slamming the door. He glared over at Trevor then. "...T."

"Sugar Tits."

"When the fuck ate you gonna stop callin' me that?!"

"When I'm six feet under ground, buddy," Trevor announced loudly, in a rough, sing-song voice. "Eating worms!"

"I can make that happen..."

"OHHOO, I know you can, Mikey!" Trevor retorted, looking in the rearview mirror, as he drove on the wrong side of the road and ran a red light. "Don't be like Michael, Trisha, don't pretend someone's your friend and then stab them in the back."

"Are you ever going to stop bringing that up?"

"When I think the lessons learned, Sugar Tits."

"Everyday with you is a fucking lesson learned..."

"Can you two shut up, please?!" Trisha shouted, feeling that pain in the middle of her forehead Michael so often talked about. "I'm a little nervous right now, I don't want to hear you two going at it... _AGAIN_!"

Michael shook his head, looking back at her with concern. "I told ya this was a bad idea, T, she's scared shitless."

"I was scared my first time, too," Trevor explained, not sounding as nearly concerned as Michael. "But I did it, and I became a man after, I was proud!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Michael insisted, glaring once again at Trevor. "You threw up all over my shoes after our first heist!"

"But I was a man!" Trevor slammed a hand on the steering wheel. "I proved myself!"

"Yeah, well...I'm a girl," Trisha retorted, because of course, they had brought it back to themselves, ignoring Trisha's needs, wants or concerns. Instead, being too involved with themselves. It had been this way since she was seven. "I'm pretty sure a penis won't grow out of nothing after robbing a freaking store, for no good reason. But hell, maybe God works in strange ways...he gave me to you two, probably so I would kill myself!"

"Hey, whoa...whoa," Michael started, looking back at her again. She glared daggers at him. "Calm down, I know you're worried, but-"

"Don't joke about killing yourself!" Trevor interrupted, roughly. "Or I'll tape you to a chair and let you watch me enjoy the company of Mrs. P..."

Michael face palmed, letting his hand run down his face slowly, "Shut up..." he said, Trevor shrugged, this was not the first time he had threatened this, so it went on a bland ear to Trisha anyway. "We're gonna be right there, if shit goes south, we'll be ready for it."

"What if they have a gun?" Trisha offered.

"We'll have more."

"Tuck and roll," Trevor said, as he stopped in front of the clothing store Trevor had decided Trisha should hit. Trisha sighed, as both of her supposed fathers turned back and watched her eagerly. She got out of the car, looking up at the clothing store in horror. She couldn't do this... She wasn't like them. She was a good person, they were psychopaths who actually enjoyed stealing and hurting people. She just wanted a normal life...far away from them.

 **XXX**

Trisha walked into the store, no gun or weapon of any kind, refusing to take one when Trevor had offered this morning. She refused to hold it, to be the one to hold someone's life in her hands, just because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. She walked to the back of the store, not sure how to do this, or at least...how to fake it. But they were too smart for that, if she didn't come out of this thing with a few hundred dollars they, especially Trevor, were going to be pissed.

Rubbing her eyes, trying to think of a plan, nothing came. Michael had given her a few ideas the other day, but none of these were going to work without a weapon, or more help. Why the hell weren't they even helping her? It was like they threw her to the sharks...

She pulled out her phone, looking at the time, it had already been ten minutes at this point. She opened her contacts, wasting more time.

 **You: Text Sent : You have a big house, can I live with you?**

 **Uncle F: Text Received: Sup?**

 **You: Text Sent: I can't say over text.**

 **Uncle F: Text Received: T hat bad? Shit u can come stay wit me.**  
 **Uncle F: Text Received: Ur probz cleaner than Chop.**  
 **Uncle F: Text Received: Talk to M. He can help wit T.**

 **You: Text Sent: He's in on it.**  
 **You: Text Sen t: He doesn't like to argue with Trevor when he's made up his mind about something.**

 **Uncle F: Text Received : M? Cuda fooled me. Thought they always fightin.**

 **You: Text Sent: Not when it comes to "parenting" me...**

 **Uncle F: Text Received: Sorry Little Homie. Settin up yo room. ;)**

 **XXX**

Michael's eyes were glued to the door, it had been twenty minutes and there was not so much as even a hint of disturbance, he drummed his fingers on the car door. He was more nervous now, than when he took Jimmy to his first job interview, that hadn't gone well...this probably wouldn't either. It might not be the best mentality, but Michael really did have enough money, none of his kids would ever have to resort to crime to get by, he wanted his kids to have a job because they loved the thing they were doing. Like Tracey with her acting, even if it was mediocre at best, and Jimmy and his video game, that really didn't make any sense, but hell...at least he was doing something. It was obvious Trisha didn't want to do this, he had no idea what she did want to do...listening wasn't his strong suit, but fuck, he would support her, whatever it was.

His eyes traveled over to Trevor, because watching the door anymore was making him sick. She was like the fucking runt puppy at feeding time, blind and lost. These thoughts made Michael want to jump out of the car and save her, and clip any bitch who dare get in his way. But fucking Trevor...he wanted her to do this on her own, he said it would build character, which is pretty rich coming from someone like Trevor.

"I wonder what she's doing in there..." Trevor muttered, finally, now looking a bit nervous. It had been twenty five minutes.

"I say if she's not out here in ten minutes we go in."

"No, Mikey, we can't do that."

"Why the fuck not?!"

"She has to do this on her own," Trevor Insisted. "The thrill of a heist gone right? Naaah, nothing can beat that, maybe she'll finally get us."

"Ohh," Michael nodded. "I get it now, you wanna relate to her," Michael laughed. "It ain't ever gonna happen, pal. We ain't ever gonna relate to them, I gave up on that a long time ago."

"That's you, Mike," Trevor shrugged him off. "We always knew I was going to be a better father than you."

"You?" Michael laughed. "Alright...whatever you say."

 **XXX**

"Does this come in yellow?" Trisha asked, holding up a purple shirt that she was pretty sure did not come in yellow. The woman took it and gave her a dirty look for actually making her do work.

"I'll look in the back" she said, with a snip. Snip or not, that was exactly what Trisha wanted her to do. The woman walked from behind the counter and went through a door. Trisha took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She stepped around the counter, it felt like she was climbing a never ending mountain, with how labored her breathing was. _Oh God,_ was she fainting? She felt very dizzy.

She looked down at the cash register, not sure, really, how to work it. She looked around for any nosy shoppers, there weren't any, before hitting a few buttons, pulling the backpack off her shoulder. The drawer popped open, the sight of the money actually made her feel worse, how that was possible...she had no idea.

She took hand fulls of twenties, fifties and tens and shoved them in her bag, praying the woman wouldn't come back until Trisha was gone. But of course...there was a shuffle of feet as she zipped the bag shut. Trisha heaved a troubled sigh, not wanting to face it, but knew she had no choice. The woman stood there, purple shirt still in hand, eyes going from the bag, Trisha's face, and the now mostly empty cash register. The women, mouth hung open, leaned forward, grabbing at the counter. Trisha knew what she was doing, looking for the alarm button.

"Noo!" Trisha pushed her back by the shoulders and pushed passed her, running for the door. "I'm sorry, _I'm so sorry_!" she yelled, tears welling up in her eyes, as she genuinely felt horrible and also very...very scared. She reached the door, before the women could hit the button. It was just as she felt the concrete under one foot that she heard the sirens go off. She booked it toward the car, diving inside of it and throwing the bag onto the floor. "Drive!"

"Sooo?" Trevor replied, interested, for the first time ever, so it felt. "How'd it go?"

"Like shit!" Trisha yelled, looking left and right, hearing police sirens now too. "Just drive. DRIVE!"

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( **A/N:** I'm really happy that some people are interested in this story. Thanks for checking it out and also, keep letting me know what you think! :D)


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3. Mission: Detained!**

The cops were on their tail, thanks to Trevor lolly-gagging. This was great, what normal teenage girl went to jail with her two dad's? She could only see the headlines now.

 _Teen robs popular clothing store, accomplice: her f_ _ather's._

 _Teen girl arrested_ _for theft with her two gay dads._

Oh, Weazel News would just love it.

Trevor turned down a small street between two buildings and hit a trash can. Michael swore loudly at him, but Trevor ignored it, turning off the cars headlights and watched the rearview mirror. He waited a few minutes, a smirk growing on his lips.

"I think we lost 'em, Ladies," he announced, backing out of the tight space, hitting that trash can again.

"Good, I'm never doing that again," Trisha said, Trevor looked back at her, as he spun the car around and headed down the busy streets of Los Santos. "I feel... Gross. Wrong."

"But you also feel excited, pumped, thirsty for more?"

Trisha glared back at him, "No..."

"AEHHH!" Trevor retorted. "I don't know where we went wrong with her Mike." Michael said nothing, a surprise and probably a first. Trevor looked over to him now, angry. "Why the silence... _Old Buddy_?"

Michael looked nervous about speaking, again, a first." If she doesn't want to be like us, she doesn't have to. It's not for everyone, T."

"I want to be a teacher-"

"...you do?!" Michael butted in, shocked.

"-I don't want to be a freaking criminal!"

Trevor, no matter how shocked Michael appeared, he was worse. More shocked, completely blindsided, deeply hurt. "No!"

"What do you mean no?" Trisha retorted.

"I mean...no!" Trevor explained, looking back, through the mirror again. "No daughter of mine is gonna be... _a teacher_. ew...!"

Trisha looked ira*te, You can't stop me!"

" Ohhhooo...wanna bet?"

"Alright...enough-" Michael tried.

"YOU'RE NOT MY FATHER!" Trisha suddenly screamed, cutting Michael off. She glared daggers at him. "Neither of you are!"

"Hey now!" Michael tried again.

"YOU BOTH CAN GO TO HELL!"

"Already been there, Baby Doll," Trevor retorted, angrier. "Now, shut the fuck up or I'll make you shut up..."

"Trev-" Michael tried, AGAIN, but it was at this point that the car was slowing down, and Trisha pushed open the back door and jumped out. "TRISHA!"

"Tuck and roll!" Trevor called after her, too angry to see much sense in the situation, watching as she peeled herself off the sidewalk and began running. Trevor just drove on.

"T, stop the fucking car!"

"No..." Trevor said, determined. "She needs to learn a lesson."

"You and your god damn lessons..."

 **XXX**

Trisha walked down the street, and then streets, she wasn't ever really in Los Santos, so she didn't know the area that well, she tried calling Franklin but he didn't answer, so she was all alone. No matter how alone she would not return to Trevor, or Michael, or that trailer. Not even to get Mrs. P, even if she was scared what Trevor might do to it and she _had_ had it since she was born. She was pretty sure her grandmother gave it to her...and also pretty sure that grandmother was dead, just like the rest of her family.

There were sirens in the background, and it was oh, so clear what she had to do. The whole world was pointing her in that direction. Part of her wanted to rat them out too, telling the police, in great detail, all they had done, but that would also mean ratting out Franklin, and no matter how much she didn't like Michael's family, they didn't deserve to have their father sent to jail...and Trevor would probably just murder all his inmates, so Trisha was probably saving a lot of people by keeping her lips shut...about most things.

 **XXX**

 _Three...two...one._ The car ignited in flames and Trevor let out a w _oohoo_ , as the car sank ever deeper into the river. The two then proceeded on foot. Not talking, as they flagged down a taxi and got inside.

It was at this point, as the driver asked, "Where to?" That Michael's phone began to bring. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at the ID. It was unknown.

"Hello?"

"Is this Michael De Santa?"

"...that depends on who wants to know?"

"This is the City of Los Santos Police Department, we have your daughter, Trisha De Santa Philips, in custody."

"Oh shit..." Michael sighed, shaking his head in utter distaste. "I'll be right there." He hung up the phone, glaring at Trevor. "I hope you're _real_ proud of yourself!"

"What?!"

"The cops caught Trisha!" Michael explained, then looked at the cabbie. "LSPD, step on it."

"Fuck..." Trevor trailed off, shaking his head. "Those fucking snakes! I fucking hate cops!"

They arrived at the station, after having to over pay the cabbie to get them there faster. They both rushed inside, nearly pushing each other out of the way to do so.

"We're here for Trisha De Santa."

"De Santa _Philips_!" Trevor corrected.

"You must be her father...?" the woman at the desk looked between them.

"Yes," they both answered at the same time. The woman raised an eyebrow, but stood up anyway and walked over to the door, hit a few minutes on a key pad and opened the door.

"Right through here," she explained. "She's in holding cell two."

Both men rushed through the door at exactly the same time, having trouble fitting. The woman watched in disbelief, as they struggled, but then continued on, like nothing happened. She just returned to her desk, quickly, shaking her head.

"Trisha, Sweetheart!" Michael announced himself, as they walked toward her cell. She didn't look up. She only sat on the bench and looked at the floor.

"Trisha!" Trevor announced, as well, in a greeting. Trevor's voice seemed to irritate her enough to look up, and then huff. "Not even sixteen and already in jail? Seems like she beat your record, Mikey!"

"Shut up, T."

"Why are you two here?" Trisha barked at them, but now chose to look at the ceiling rather than at them. "I don't want you here..."

"We're here to bust you out!" Trevor expressed and that only made Trisha look more unhappy and groan.

"They called me, I'm you're father," Michael said, sternly, because he was losing his pataince. "I'm gonna handle this."

"No you're not!" Trisha jumped up, finally looking at them again, with daggers instead of eyes.

"YES, I FUCKING AM!" Micheal retorted in a shout he was sure every police officer on duty, here or not, could hear. But she didn't flinch, as none of his kids normally did when he shouted. She only looked more angry.

"NO YOU'RE NOT!" she yelled back. "YOU'RE NOT MY FATHER, MY FATHER'S DEAD, BECAUSE _HE_ KILLED HIM!"

She pointed to Trevor, and Michael looked over, he didn't know what he was expecting to see; A wild animal, like he had when someone had insulted him before, a ball of rage, angry words flying, but what he saw, what he didn't expect to see...was the heart break in his, otherwise insane, best friend's eyes.

"Come on, T," Michael said gently, Trevor was rooted, mouth hung open, but not in it's usual, ugly U shape, with actual shock, formed into a O. He didn't move, Michael had to give him a little shove to get him going. "Let's see what the damage is..."

They headed back through the door and to the desk, where the women sat, pretending to do work, but was actually just on LifeInvader. She looked up at them, raising her eyebrow. "Are you posting bail?"

"Nah, I thought we'd leave her in there awhile..." Michael shrugged, sarcastically. The woman didn't seem to like that much. "Of course!"

"Okay," The Woman switched off her lifeInvader page and started typing fast. "You'll have to fill out some paper work, and one of the officers will need to have a conversation with you about next steps."

"Next steps?" Michael questioned, but got no answer as the woman hopped off her seat and went through the door. Michael's jaw twitched, as he looked over to Trevor. He stood there, silent, and that was very, very alarming. "Trevor?"

It took him awhile to answer. But when he did, it was not at all what Michael thought he would hear. "...she never talked about that before."

"That you killed her family?"

"I didn't know she knew..."

Michael shook his head, even more alarmed than he was before. "She wasn't a baby, T, when it happened. And even if she didn't understand it then, she would've pieced it together by now."

The woman finally returned, clipboard full of papers for Michael to fill out. Of course, because even in a normal, or at least normal for him, state, Trevor would never fill out paper work. She handed it over and motioned for them to go sit, in the two chairs, by the window. Michael nodded, heading that way, Trevor followed, like a lost puppy.

"I didn't kill her mother..." Trevor muttered, as he sat down, nearly on top of Michael, because his mind was else where, and he wasn't paying attention to anything around him. Michael pushed him down into his own seat.

"What?"

"I didn't kill her mother," Trevor repeated, slightly louder, but not so much that the woman at the desk could hear him. "She ran off."

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me, T?"

"She just left her there!" Trevor growled. "If it was my kid I would make damn sure she was safe. Fuck, I would even do that for your kids, and I hate them!"

"I know ya would, T, but-"

"She didn't deserve to have her," Trevor said, growling a little more dog-form like. So, basically, back to his old self. Thank God. "She put her in a fucking closet! I know I'm fucked, but come _ooon,_ Mike!"

Michael wasn't really sure what to say, whether or not Trisha's mother deserved to have her didn't seem like their thing to decide, but Trevor had already made said decision, so there wasn't much Michael could do about it. Instead, having finished the paper work, Michael stood up. Trevor, again, imminently followed suit.

"Should I tell her?"

Michael paused, before he fully reached the desk, thinking; That was the difference between them, Trevor was very straightforward, him telling it like it is was what got him into the most trouble. But Michael, well...he was charming when he wanted to be, a smooth talker, his wife had often told him he wouldn't be able to tell a truth from a lie if his life depended on it, and maybe that was true, but sometimes a lie saves the other person more than you think...

"Tell her she could've had a happy life with her mom and not with two lunatics and a gang-banger uncle? Nah..." Michael told him, casually. Now, finally, walking up to the desk and handing the woman the clipboard. Trevor didn't look convinced, but said nothing else about it.

 **XXX**

The police officer stared both of them down, with a dirty look on his plastic face, as they all stood in front of Trisha's sell. Meanwhile, she refused to look at any of them.

"Turning herself in was the best option," the police officer began, looking very manufactured and like he was reading off a paper. But his words still rung in Trevor's ears.

"You...turned yourself in?" he turned to look at her, she only huffed.

"But with no money to speak of, I'm afraid it does little good to help the situation," the officer continued. "Of course, there will be a fine, but further steps will need taken,-"

"The money?!" Trisha suddenly yelled, jumping up and grabbing hold of the bars, they all looked over. "It's in the back of the-"

" _AHHH!_ And..." Trevor shouted over her words, she stopped talking and glared at him. "These further steps are?"

The officer's look darkened, as he continued. "She will either be asked to appear in court, where she could be tried as a juvenile delinquent, or...she can voluntarily enter a youth program to help troubled teens in Los Santos and the surrounding area."

He handed a leaflet to Michael that had a sun with a smiley face on it. Trevor was disgusted by it already. "Do you realize you sound like an idiot when you talk?"

Michael looked up with wide eyes, whether the leaflet was _that_ brainwashingly stupid or otherwise, Trevor didn't care. The officer glared. "Excuse me?"

"I'm only asking, _Slick_. Because I'm pretty sure you're fake as fuck!"

"T, shut up!"

"He's a robot, Mikey!"

"Look," the officer walked over to Trisha's cell and opened the door, she just stood there, looking sad, and not bothering to exit. "You posted bail, you are free to go, but don't leave the area. Someone will be in touch."

" _ **Oooh**_ , I bet they will, Buddy Boy!"

"Trevor..." This time it was Trisha speaking. "Shut up!"

* * *

( **A/N:** Just a warning, for this and really all stories of mine. I'm moving, so updates will not be happening for awhile, but that's good, because I hopefully will be moving somewhere with good internet and will be able to do more things. Wish me luck! And...please do leave me some feedback, I really enjoy writing this story, more so than I have any other story in quite awhile!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4. Mission: Troubled House Guest.**

"The car... _blew up_?!" Trisha yelled, as they stood on the sidewalk, outside the police station, waiting for a taxi. "And the money...?"

"Yeah, well, if the water didn't get the money first, the grenade did," Trevor explained. Trisha sighed, face-palming.

"We were getting tagged by the cops, we didn't have a choice," Michael explained, also. "We didn't know you left it."

"I didn't want it!" Trisha yelled, right as the taxi pulled up. She yanked open the door and got inside. The two followed and Trisha was squished into the door as Micheal took spot in the middle and Trevor didn't think to get in the front. She took a deep, pained, breath, trying not to think that it would be better to just have stayed in jail.

"Portola Drive," Michael said,and then the ride was quiet.

 **XXX**

Once they arrived at Michael's house, Trevor had a quick argument with the driver about why he didn't get a tip, and then quickly caught up with the other two, as they walked inside.

"Amanda, Baby!" Michael called out, to which Trevor rolled his eyes. "Come here!" Amanda walked into the room, from the living room. Looking very annoyed, Trevor could only hope it was because of him, she gave him a dirty look as she reached her husband.

"What did you do now?" she asked, irritated,with a raised, very trimmed, eyebrow

Michael shrugged at her words. "What do you mean 'what did I do now'?"

"Every time you call me baby it either means you did something, or you're _going_ to do something," Amanda explained. "So, which is it?

"Nothing, Baby," Michael said. Trevor shook his head, looking over to Trisha, she looked just as sickened as Trevor felt.

" _Ohhhh_ , he's been a bad boy, alright," Trevor chided, smirking. "You better get that leash back on 'em. Just don't try to run, Mikey. Woof, woo.-uugh-" Trevor made obscene, even for his standards, choking noises.

"What are _you_ doing here anyway?" Amanda retorted. "Shouldn't you be off terrorizing another town?"

Trevor gasped, pretending to be hurt. "Mike, I think your wife is calling me a terrorist!"

"Well...you kinda are."

Trevor glared, a real glare. "Fuck you, Michael!"

Amanda sighed, annoyed. "What is the point of this?"

"Look, Honey...Trisha got in some trouble,"Michael explained, softly, like was delivering a massive blow. "She's gonna have to stay here for awhile. She can use the guest room."

"Whatever,"Amanda retorted, turning around and headed for the kitchen. "I don't care..."

"Great seeing ya again, 'Manda!" Trevor called after her. "Those swimming lessons are doing wonders for you!"

He went entirely ignored, as he knew he would, and turned back to the other two. "Hey,"Michael retorted, late, smacking Trevor in the arm. "Lay off her!"

"I hate to say this, Michael, but I don't think your wife likes me very much," Trevor explained himself, kind of. Michael rolled his eyes.

"You're a required taste, T."

"Ah," Trevor nodded. "And you require it, dont'cha, Sugar Tits?"

"Sure..."

 **XXX**

He did not.

Trevor left, not getting much of a goodbye from Trisha before he went, which seemed to disappoint him. But she was obviously still mad, she held on to things almost as good as Trevor did. Michael sighed, closing his eyes and trying to get rid of the pain in the center of his forehead.

"Can. I go upstairs now?" Trisha asked, snappily. Michael nodded and she was gone, marching up the stairs almost louder than Tracey did, when she was angry with him. Which, was always.

Michael headed into the kitchen, hungry, it had been a long day, he just wanted to relax now that he was home. He didn't expect Amanda to still be there, he expected her to be outside, getting useless swimming lessons he had to pay for. And the look on her face, the look that never seemed to work on the kids, but was oddly perfected just for him...it didn't tell him why, just that he was in trouble.

"What?!" he demanded, as he got bread from the breadbox, in trouble or not, he was still hungry.

"I don't understand something,"Amanda said.

"I don't understand a lot of things..."

She gave him a dirty look. ""Why do you still spend time with that... _that monster_?!"

Michael momentarily forgot his hunt for lunch meat and stared at her. "Who?" he asked, though he had an idea who."Trevor?" The look she gave him, a look that told him he had guessed correctly. "Oh, come on...he's not that bad!"

"He eats people!"

"He does not, he just says that..." Michael shrugged off her words. "He says a lot of dumb shit."

"He has you mixed up in his bullshit, Michael, like always," Amanda said, seriously even though he was trying to blow her off. She didn't want to get the hint. Micheal was just stuck with Trevor, like a curse, or like a lump on his ass, it wasn't going away any time soon. "And now the girl, too..."

"Trisha?!" Michael retorted, seriously now. He had always known Amanda didn't like the fact that Michael was helping Trevor raise Trisha, and he could understand that, he hadn't liked it so much himself at first. But somewhere along the road Michael began to see Trisha as one of his kids, and he wouldn't let Amanda belittle that again."Don't start about her again."

"Why not?!" Amanda retorted. "You let her stay in our home...without even asking how I feel about it?!"

"I knew how you'd feel about it," Michael argued. "I didn't have a fucking choice!"

"Let Trevor deal with it!" Amanda demanded. 'It's not you're fucking responsibility!"

"IT IS MY FUCKING RESPONSIBILITY, SHE'S MY KID!" Michael yelled, almost screamed, in return. Amanda didn't flinch, as it seemed no one did when he yelled, and her lips only curled into a even less attractive sneer.

"She is not your kid, Michael...the only kids you have you don't pay any attention to..."

"Yo, um...am I interrupting somethin'?"

The voice threw Michael off from his soon to be rage, and he froze, taking a step back from his wife. Franklin stood there, eyes wide and looking very uncomfortable. "No," Michael answered, picking his bread up, off the floor, where he threw it when he shouted. "How did you get in here?"

"I'm from the hood, Dogg," Franklin shrugged. "It's the first thing you learn in school."

Michael nodded, feeling, still, a little too on edge to be having a normal conversation.

"You know you're always welcome here, Franklin," Amanda said, in a smooth, sweet voice that she didn't have just a second ago. Franklin smiled at her.

"Thanks...Ma'am."

"I have to go, Pedro will be here any second for our swimming lesson," Amanda said, and headed for the back door. "Michael, we'll talk about this later."

He waited for her to be outside before he replied. "No we won't..."

"What the fuck was that?" Franklin asked, now that Amanda was gone. He always liked to keep a certain amount of respect and politeness when he was around Amanda, or even Tracey, that he knew he didn't have to keep up with Micheal. Michael appropriated it, he liked a man that could show women respect. Michael himself wished he could be more like that.

"Bullshit, Frank, just complete bullshit..." Michael trailed off, opening the fridge, finally, because he was still hungry. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I talked to T, he told me Trisha got into trouble," Franklin shrugged, as Michael set down all of his basic sandwich necessities. "She text me earlier and sounded pretty upset, man, and I missed her call...I thought I'd come over and she if she wanted to hang."

"She turned herself in after Trevor made her stick-up a store," Michael explained. "Then, me and T blew up the money on accident, so now she could either do time or we send her to some fuckin' camp for hippie fuck-ups."

"Fuck, Dogg, why the fuck didn't you call me sooner?"

Michael shrugged, and took a bite of his made sandwich. "Me and T handled it."

"Shit, man...I bet she's freaking, doin' time at her age? What the fuck?" Franklin shook his head. "We can fix this, Lester can-"

"I'm going to call Lester in the morning," Michael explained.

"Good," Franklin said. "I'm gonna go see Little T, she upstairs?"

"Yeah," Michael answered, as Franklin walked away, before shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.

 **XXX**

Trisha woke up early, much earlier than everyone else in the house, and that was just like with Trevor too. He could sleep forever. She headed downstairs, going to sit in Michael's fancy living room. Of course she had been in Micheal's house before, her and Trevor, and also Franklin and a few other people she didn't know, always came over for Thanksgiving, but other than that, she hadn't really been here, and had Certainly never spent the night. It was a lot different than at Trevor's trailer, for one she actually got to sleep on a bed, rather than the couch, everything was so roomy and big and just overall smelled better.

Trisha heard something at the front door, she stood up and walked into the foyer to see Michael's daughter, Tracey, trying to sneak up the stairs, she spotted her and made a face like she smelled something off.

"Oh, ew...it's you," she said, in the most vally girl way possible. It made Trisha suddenly very happy she wasn't allowed to go to school. "You're not like...gonna tell my dad you saw me, right?"

Trisha shrugged one shoulder, looking coy. "It might just slip out..."

"Don't tell him, he'll get like so pissed off!"

"Aren't you an adult?" Trisha offered now, still not giving an answer. "What can he really do and are you really that scared? If you are, that's sad...because I'm not even scared of him."

"One word'" Tracey said, and leaned over the banister, closer to her. She smelled like pot and booze. "Trust-fund."

"That's two words..." Trisha trailed off. "And even more sad, you want to stay on his good side so he gives you money when he dies?"

"Exactly!" Tracey smiled. "And with how he acts and what he eats...it won't be that long now."

Trisha's eyes widened, "Wow...okay."

"So, you won't tell him?"

"Noo..." Trisha shook her head, Tracey smiled and headed up the stairs. "Wow...these people are fucked up."

* * *

( **A/N:** I'm sorry I have been away so long, I moved and such. Though, I did continue writing while I was away, so I have tons of chapters for anyone whose interested! I will update again in a day or so with part 5, just to get back into the swing of things. enjoy!)


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5. Mission: The Interview.**

 _"' Sunny Hill Farm, reorganizing teens sense 1985?!_ " Trevor read, in a shout, as he read the leaflet, for the second time. He was in the backseat with Trisha, while Michael took shotgun and Franklin drove. "Is this car new, F? I might vomit..."

"Relax, T, it's not going to be for that long," Michael explained. "I'm not thrilled about it either, but we gotta make a good impression, so she gets in. Otherwise she could get locked up."

"We'll make a fine impression," Trevor said, with complete sureness. "Everyone loves me."

"Yeah, sure..." Michael trailed off. "I'm gonna call Lester, to make sure we got all the facts straight."

Michael did just that, pulling out his phone and hitting it a few times. He put it on speaker phone just as Lester answered. "What now?"

"We just wanted to go over the plans one more time," Michael explained. "So, seven years ago Trevor adopted her and I stepped in and gave 'em a hand?"

"No," Lester replied over the phone. "You can sell that to a lot of people, but not these people...they can dig into everything. Do you know how much covering up I had to do?"

"Oh, so sorry, Les, taking you away from all the girl's gym lockers you spy on!" Trevor retorted, leaning up, over Michael's shoulder to bitch. "What the fuck is the plan then?"

"You, Michael, and Trevor adopted Trisha about seven years ago, together," Lester explained, sounding even more short after Trevor's comment, which is shocking, as he was already short. In more than one way. "I buried all of her records before that time, destroyed her birth records."

"Yo, but like...why would two men adopt a kid together?" Franklin asked, which was a very good point, Trevor thought. "Seems a bit fucked up."

"It's simple," Lester answered. "They're gay."

"We're what?!" Trevor retorted.

"Gay?" Michael, too, responded. "For fucking real? Gay?!"

"It's the only thing that would make sense."

"And how the fuck would that make sense?" Trevor offered. No one answered.

"What about my wife?" Michael asked, which got an answer.

"For now it looks like you got a divorce."

"Oh...Jesus," Michael complained. "She's going to fuckin' kill me..."

"And how are me and Miss Sparkling Diva supposed to have gotten together?" Trevor wondered now. "He shows up from the dead and I go _'Ooh, suck my dick?'_ "

"However you choose, I really don't care," Lester answered, and then promptly hung up. Michael ran a hand over his face and put his phone away.

"Well," Trevor said, sighing and leaning back into his seat. "It looks like you got what you always wanted, Trisha, Honey, your daddies are flaming homosexuals now."

"I...uh, definitely never wanted that," Trisha retorted. Trevor smiled at her words.

"Aw, why not?"

"Because she knows I'm a happily married man?" Michael offered, looking back at them, a stern, unhappy look on his face.

"You call that happy?" Trevor shot back. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Fuck you, Trevor."

"Maybe later, Sugar Tits," Trevor smirked.

"Oh my fucking god..." Michael trailed off, looking up to the sky, which was actually just the roof of the car. "Kill me now!"

"Also, maybe later, Sugar Tits, if we're feelin' spicy," Trevor said, making Michael close his searching eyes in grief. "So, Mikey, Baby, how'd you fall in extra amounts of love with this perfect piece of man right here?"

"With lots of mistakes and stupidity," Michael answered, still not opening his eyes. "And a fucked sense of judgement."

"Uh-huh, well...obviously I settled," Trevor explained. "I could find a more manly man on a pole at the gay bar than you."

"You wanna pull over and see how manly I can get?!" Michael shouted. "I'll punch you right in the teeth, you fuck!"

"Yeah...yeah," Trisha said, suddenly, shutting Trevor's mouth and his really, honestly, great reply. They both looked at her. "And then after you might as well just drop me off at the prison."

"Little T, trust, they talk a lot of shit to each other," Franklin said, making Trisha sigh. "But they won't fuck this up."

"Yeah," Trevor agreed, trying to give his daughter reassurance, which wasn't really his thing. "Everything will be okay ."

 **XXX**

They arrived at the Sunny Hill Farm and Trisha looked around, outside the window, at the dingy, red buildings. So, this was where she would have to spend her days? Well, it was no worse than the trailer, she thought. The three exited the car, Franklin was going to wait in the car, he was just here for emotional support, or because Michael and Trevor were too lazy to drive.

"Are you ready?" Trevor asked, as he and Trisha stood there, waiting for Michael to pull stuff from his pockets and then put it right back in, twice. There was his wallet, his phone...a gun,of FREAKING course he brought a gun. Did he really think he was going to have to shoot up a kid?

Trisha sighed, "Yep."

"Mikey?"

"Ueh..." Michael sputtered, looking very nervous. Which Trisha found odd, he was normally more sensible out of the two of them, which said very little next to Trevor. "Yeah."

"Michael...?" Trevor prompted. Which seemed to crack whatever resolve Michael had and he dropped his shoulders, looking tense.

"I don't know how to play gay..."

Trevor laughed, richly, and placed an arm around his supposed partner. "I do, just follow my lead."

Michael didn't look convinced, and quite frankly, neither was Trisha now.

They walked up the few steps to the front doors and walked inside. It smelled like plastic, which made the part of her brain that was raised by Trevor think this was definitely a sign for something. There was a woman sitting at a very large desk, with bottled red hair, she looked up and raised a eyebrow.

"De Santa Philips?"

All three of them nodded.

"Come through here," she stood up, and pointed toward a hallway. "I wasn't expecting you for another twenty."

"Punctuality," Trevor said, pompously, as they followed her. They were taken into a room with four desk chairs in a circle, but with no desks to speak of, only a dresser which had lots of random things on it, like a bottle of glue and a bin that said _Outside Only_. The three sat down in the three chairs that were the closest together, and the women sat in the forth.

"Are you the one interviewing us?" Michael asked, which Trisha also had been wondering. The woman's eyebrow rose again.

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"No," Michael answered. "Just asking."

"If I like what I see after this interview, the information will be passed on to the owners, and they will call you in for a second interview." Trisha barely had time to process this, before the woman continued. "In this program, we have come across, more often than not, that the child's misbehavior is due to the lack of good parenting. So, let's begin with the base problem..."

Trisha's eyes went wide, it was entirely true of course, but she couldn't help but look over at Trevor, she was just waiting for him to pull out a gun and blow her away. It seemed Michael thought the same, because he too was staring at him. The woman, not sensing the danger she was in, continued on, when she didn't get an answer right away.

"Mr. De Santa?"

"Yeah?" Michael asked in return, jumping and looking back at her. Her face turned dark, lines forming under her very large cheekbones.

"My paper work says you used to be married and have two children from that union," she explained. "How is your relationship with them compared to this one, with your daughter?"

"I probably have a better one with Trisha,"Michael said, and Trisha could tell he honestly thought that. But, Trisha couldn't exactly say he was wrong right now, even though he was. "My other two kids...I love 'em, I really do, but I just don't get 'em, you know?"

"No," the woman answered, and wrote something down in a blue colored journal."Mr. Philips, have you always known you were gay?"

"No, ugh...yeah," Trevor nodded. "I always knew."

She wrote something else down. "And how did you two meet?"

Michael looked over at Trevor, Trevor only grinned. "It's alright, BooBear, I'll tell her the story," Trevor smiled, sweetly, which was horrifying, at Michael and leaned over and patted his knee. "He still gets a bit confused about it, you see...Michael, Darling, was always afraid of his sexuality, I could always sense that."

"Always?" She asked. "So, you were friends before?"

"Ooh yeah, for years before," Trevor nodded. "Mikey and I had known each other when we were younger, but we...lost touch. And when I found him again he was fat and old, washed up and in a unhappy marriage with a woman who was a giant whore, and with two kids who used him for his money. After that...one thing just led to another."

"You fell in love?"

"Something like that," Michael answered, with a glare toward Trevor that the woman very much noticed. "Look, things were really complicated, and they still are. I'm not gonna lie, me and Trevor aren't perfect, far from it, but we love Trisha and we want what's best for her."

"I see," the woman said, and wrote something else. "And Trisha,what made you act out the way you did? Surely you know stealing is wrong?"

"I do, I didn't want to do it," Trisha explained, this was the first time she had spoken to the woman, and that thought made her very nervous.

"Yet...you did it?" the woman retorted. "Why?"

"I was pressured into it, I listened to the wrong people and now I have to pay for it," Trisha explained, eyes traveling over to her two idiots, they both looked very guilty. "We all have to."

 **XXX**

The three had reached the part of the interview where Rachael,that was the woman's name, showed them around the campus. Which, Trisha thought had to at least mean something. They walked outside and Trisha waved to Franklin as they walked passed the car. He momentarily stopped bobbing his head to whatever music he was listening to, waved as he rolled down the window, and watched them intently.

"Whose that?"

"Our driver," Trevor answered, with a smirk over his shoulder at the car."Chauncey, he works really cheep. Will do anything you ask for a fifty." Rachael looked alarmed from Trevor to Franklin, Franklin, who could obviously hear them, flipped Trevor off. He laughed, as Michael, not so secretly, hit him in the arm. "I'm kidding, Jesus!" Trevor said, roughly. "He's actually my brother."

"Your... _brother_?" She questioned, with a raised eyebrow, her favorite move. "He's-"

"Not as attractive... I know," Trevor said, gravely, cutting her off. "But not everyone can look like me."

"We can just get back to the tour?" Michael asked, losing his patience, Rachael nodded and led the way to the most barn like building Trisha had seen so far. It was the school and Lunch room.

"There will be lunch here everyday,"she explained. "A chef will come in everyday to cook lunch and dinner."

"You have a professional chef?" Michael asked.

"He's professional enough..."

Michael nodded, as Trevor _'oohed'_ loudly,like he was impressed, as he walked behind Michael and whispered, and none too quite either, because several steps away, Trisha could still hear him. "He's probably poisoned someone."

After that, they saw the work out room, which was in a separate building. And then what was supposedly a library, which looked more like a studio apartment with a few bean bag chairs and one wall full of books. Where they went to next was a building called Monroe. The only reason Trisha knew this was from the plaque on the door before they walked in. Rachael just kept calling it _'The Girls Residence'_ which really didn't make any sense.

"This is where you will spend most of your free time, you will eat breakfast and dinner here, also do whatever homework or projects you might take on," Rachael explained. "The bedrooms are down this hall," she pointed to a wall behind a giant stoned fireplace and Trisha began suddenly feeling very confused. "Along with the house mother's quarters."

"Wait," Trisha said, looking around for a second, noticing that Michael and Trevor didn't follow them inside. Which was great, if she was being honest. "Bedrooms? Does that mean I'll be staying here all the time?

"Yes...?" Rachael retorted, that eyebrow risen again. "You live here."

"Really?" Trisha asked, with a sudden grin, she saw this as a, if not the best, way to finally get away from her supposed fathers. "I thought it was just a day program..."

 **XXX**

"So..." Trevor paused outside the door as Trisha and The Interviewer walked inside where Trisha would be living. "What do ya think, Mikey?"

Michael, still not exactly pleased with Trevor after his comments during the interview, only shrugged. "Haven't got much of a choice, do we, T? Thanks to you..."

"Whoa there, Buddy...what's with the hostility here?" Trevor asked, he seriously asked that. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I don't fuckin' know..." Michael retorted. "Maybe that you called my wife a whore or said that I'm afraid of my sexuality, _yoou fuck_!"

"I told the truth, Mike," Trevor retorted. "I can't help that you're a stereotypical, pre-Madonna asshole who can't handle the truth."

"YOU ACT LIKE YOU'RE SOME FUCKING GOD THAT CAME TO SAVE ME!" Michael shouted, not caring or thinking of if they could hear him inside. "I WAS DOING JUST FUCKING FINE BEFORE YOU CAME AND RUINED MY LIFE!"

"You weren't fine, you were a washed up piece of shit," Trevor retorted. "Whose wife was banging everyone BUT YOU!"

"Fuck you!" Michael shot back, but sounded not nearly as defeated as he felt. "Just go...fuck yourself, if you're so great, you psychotic motherfucker!".

"I might be psychotic, but at least I'm not a pretentious douchebag."

"Ha! Yeah...you're not pretentious, and I'm fucking shit, right?" Michael offered. "Of course, you're completely right, T, _I'm wrong._..."

"How THE FUCK am I pretentious?" Trevor argued back, Michael shrugged, making a nerve plus in Trevor's forehead. Michael was only too happy about this.

"You have low self-esteem."

"WHAT?!" Trevor roared. "I DO FUCKING NOT!"

"oh, you do, Pal!"

"I DON'T GIVE A FUCKING _SHIT_ WHAT ANYONE THINKS!"

Michael only smirked. Revenge, that bitch was ever so sweet.

"I DON'T!"

 **XXX**

Trisha sat in one of the chairs, while Rachael sat at the house mother's desk, which Trisha had learned that said house mother and all the kids were on some field trip, which was why they weren't there. Either way, now they were just waiting for Michael and Trevor to come in, so Rachael could explain a few things, but the two were too busy shouting at each other to care.

"Do they do this often?"

"Constantly," Trisha sighed, Rachael made a _'_ _hmm'_ noise and wrote something down on a pink sticky note. "It's how they ' _make love,'_ or so I'm told..."

"That must be hard to deal with."

"You have no idea..."

* * *

( **A/N** : I know I posted yesterday, but I feel like this story is really good, it has great potential, I want more ppl to see it, and I DO have 33 more chapters, so...I need to catch up a little. Like this, comment, ect. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Part 6. Mission: incomplete.**

Whether she was going to get a second interview or not was still up in the air, and if she didn't get in she was going to completely blame it on Michael and Trevor, who were currently not speaking to each other, which was great, except that because they weren't being assholes to each other, they were being assholes to everyone else. As soon as they had gotten back to Michael's house and Trevor took off in his truck and purposely ran into the gate as he drove off, Michael told his wife, while she complained about this, to _'shut the hell up,'_ which Trisha thought was deserving, but still rude.

Now, Trisha sat in her guestroom, Franklin sitting at the bottom of the bed.

"He said I was his fuckin' brother?!" he asked, for a third time. "Is he for real?"

"I'm pretty sure he is..."

"Crazy motherfucker," Franklin said, as he stood up. "Look, I gottta go, I'll halla at chu later, Little Homie."

"Yeah, okay," Trisha said, falling back into her bed, not planning on leaving the room, not if meant dealing with any De Santa, even if she was kind of one herself. She watched Franklin leave only to close her eyes after. She could only hope, only pray, she got into this program, she needed it... _this_ , to get away from this, this life of criminal insanity.

 **XXX**

But of course staying in the room all night was next to impossible, not when she was hungry and bored after only a few hours. She peeled herself off the bed and headed out the door, only to be greeted with a girly voice, giggling from Tracey's bedroom. _"Te he he, You're so gross!"_

Trisha rolled her eyes, walking faster to the stairs. Downstairs, Michael's son, Jimmy, was standing in front of the entrance to the living room. His face was slightly red and a frown was on his lips.

"Don't bother going in there," he said, as Trisha was walking passed him. "Dad's being a dick again."

"Yeah, I know," Trisha nodded.

"I just don't understand his problem," Jimmy continued. "All I did was ask to borrow his car...I wasn't gonna sell it or anything, I just wanted to go...see my friend."

"It's not you," Trisha explained, knowing full well that Jimmy's _friend_ was actually drugs. "He just had a fight with his husband."

"...you mean Uncle T?"

"Yeah," Trisha nodded, with a smirk. "They had a little tiff...all over my interview."

"Yeah...that sucks, but it wasn't like you were going to get in anyway," Jimmy said, and Trisha raised an eyebrow to match that of Rachael's. "I think I'll just take his car away, he always leaves the keys in the car...you won't tell him, right?"

Trisha frowned. "Nope."

Jimmy walked off, out of the front door, and Trisha walked over to look through the threshold, into the living room. Michael sat there, scowl on his face. All the blinds were closed and his eyes were glued to the TV screen. Trisha turned away, there was no point going in there only to bet shouted at. She didn't want to make any noise in the kitchen, even though she was hungry, so she headed out the back door, into Michael's backyard, which was more like a courtyard. There was tennis court, a fountain and a pool.

There was noises coming from the pool, like little laughs and splashing sounds, Trisha paused, alarmed. "No, no, Senorita, you must move more with your hips."

 _What the fuck?!_ Trisha thought to herself. She should know better than to eavesdrop on his family. She walked down the steps toward the fountain and climbed over the half wall and started walking in what little grass they had, in between the hedge and the tennis court. She couldn't help but feel entirely out of place here.

It was a horrible thought to think that she could possibly have more in common with Trevor than she thought. She was terrified by that. Trevor had made her an outcast to the social norm, to what a normal teenager should be doing. Maybe not what the De Santa's did, but at least have friends. Trisha couldn't help but feel like she literally had no one.

She sat down in the grass and watched as the sunset over the city, she just wanted a normal life...

 **XXX**

Michael lay in bed, up a lot earlier than he liked to be, especially after last night's screaming match at Jimmy, for taking Michael's car again, without permission. He really didn't know where these kids got their nerve. Tracey was out all night and making sick phone calls and acting like Michael didn't know, because he didn't give her that credit card or pay her cell phone bill, and Jimmy was wasting his life away being a useless, drug addicted twat.

At least he still had Trisha, he obviously knew she wasn't really his kid, but at least he could pretend that one of his kids were normal.

Amanda wasn't in bed, so Michael didn't have to be quiet when he got up, he really didn't know where she was and he really didn't care either, they were still kind of fighting and it only made it worse yesterday when he had told her to shut the hell up, but he couldn't help it, Trevor just made him crazy sometimes...or all the time.

He dressed and went downstairs, Trisha was coming in from the backyard as he walked into the kitchen. "What the hell were you doing out there?"

"I fell asleep,"Trisha mumbled, not looking up at him. Michael however, stared at her.

"The fuck are you talkin' about?" he asked. "You were out there all night?" Trisha nodded, frowning. "What's wrong with you?"

Trisha sighed. "Your family hates me and I hate all of them."

"What?"

"I have no friends and my parents are dead...anything else you need to know, _bro_?"

"Yeah, actually, one more thing," Michael retorted, he didn't want to fight with Trisha, he had had enough fighting. "Why are you acting like Trevor?"

She glared at him. "I'm not, don't say that again!"

"Nah, you're right, he at least owns his fucked life," Michael offered. "You're acting like me...maybe I should be proud."

"Yeah, right...make this about you, everything is about you, or Trevor, or you two bitching at each other about shit that happened before I was even born!" Trisha yelled."Guess what? I don't care! I don't care about Brad, I don't care about the heists you used to pull off, I don't care if you two want to rip each other apart or if you two just finally freaking make out already! I DON'T FUCKING CARE!"

"Make out...?"

Trisha literally let out a scream. "I'm leaving!"

This made Michael realize himself and he glared at her. "Like fuck you are!"

"You can't tell me what to do," she told him as she walked into the foyer, he followed her. "I'm not stupid, I'm not going to get in anymore trouble than you already got me in."

"It wasn't my god damn idea!"

"But you didn't stop it!"

"You're right, you're fuckin' right, okay?" Michael almost pleaded with her. "I'm sorry!"

"All you and Trevor do is live in the past, no matter what he says, he won't ever be over what you did to him, you won't ever be over it either, that's obvious," Trisha said, as she walked over to the front door. "You won't ever be over being a big, bad bank robber, that's why you didn't stop him, because you still think it's cool!"

"I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about!" Michael retorted, denying all possibilities that this might be true, instead, focusing on what was important. "And where THE FUCK do you think you're going?"

"With Franklin," Trisha answered, finally. "I called him outside."

"You know, he was there too, through all of it, not with Brad, but..." Michael glared at her eye roll. "He was there, shooting, the night Trevor killed your family, so don't act like he's some god damn angel!"

"Why?" she replied, dryly. "You do."

 **XXX**

Trevor sat in his trailer, after a night of drinking himself into a stupor. Fuck Michael, just fuck him! He was such a asshole, such a fucking-

His phone buzzed, and he picked up to see who texted him. It was Michael, _that fuck!_ But he sat up a little straighter, feeling a little bit more alive, as he touched the text icon on his phone.

 **Michael: Text Received:** **Can you divorce your best friend?  
** **Michael: Text Received:** **: Irreconcilable differences or because he's a fuckin nut case?**

 **You: Text Sent:** **Awwww U really want to get rid of me that bad?**

 **Michael: Text Received:** **If I did, I'd blow your fuckin head off.**

 **You: Text Sent:** **Ur so romantic Mikey!**

 **Michael: Text Received:** **Fuck you!  
** **Michael: Text Received:** **Trisha bitched me out today then left with F.  
** **Michael: Text Received:** **No idea where the fuck they went.**

 **You: Text Sent:** **Y does she like him more than us?  
** **You: Text Sent : Im hurt**

 **Michael: Text Received :** **"** **What we've got here is failure to communicate."**

 **You: Text Sent:** **Is that 1 of ur dumbass movie quotes again?!  
** **You: Text Sent:** **go fuck urself with those!  
** **You: Text Sent:** **Y the fuck R U such a nerd?!**

 **Michael: Text Received:** **Excuse me for tryin to lighten the mood.**

 **You: Text Sent : ****Kicking U in the dick wold help with that.**

 **Michael: Text Received:** **WTF?!**

 **You: Text Sent:** **How R we gonna make Trish like us?  
** **You: Text Sent:** **QUOTE SOMTHING AGAIN & ILL EAT U FOR BREAKFAST!**

 **Michael: Text Received** **: We could try not fighting for awhile?**

 **You: Text Sent:** **HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  
** **You: Text Sent:** **Good 1 Mikey** **!**

 **Michael: Text Received:** **I'm serious, T. We should try.**

 **You: Text Sent:** **Nooooope!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 7. Mission: Moving In.**

Despite Michael's attempts to not fight with Trevor, they still argued constantly, it was just in their nature. Michael had come to the conclusion that if he wanted to be apart of Trevor, or even Trisha's life, he was just going to have to go through a lot of grief, and apparently piss off more than just Trevor in the process. Michael had accepted it, he only wished Amanda and Trisha would do the same.

And despite how badly the first interview went, and how much worse the second interview was, Trisha was still accepted into the Sunny Hill Farms program. And Trisha was the only one happy about this, of course they didn't want her going to jail, juvi or not, but Michael and Trevor had to sign something agreeing to keep her there a year. A year was a long time.

"I need bed sheets and towels, a holder for my tooth brush," Trisha rattled things off on a list in her hand. Michael, Trevor...and Franklin, somewhere, he had slipped away at some point, were all standing around in the store. They had already navigated through the upstairs jungle of house design ideas, and now they were in the discount toiletries department.

"This store is another reason why America's fucked," Trevor said, for the second time in the last five minutes. And if Michael really wanted to keep trying to be nicer, or whatever the fuck he was trying to do, then he should just ignore him. But, he was finding it pretty hard. "You fucking idiots really pay for this shit?"

"If you don't like it, go the fuck back to Canada!"

Trevor glared at him and looked offended for a long moment.

"Where's Franklin?" Trisha asked, noticing he was gone. But it was at this moment, that a blond man rushed them, pushing Trisha out of his way, and onto the ground, as he ran. Michael and Trevor both swore, as Trevor walked over and picked Trisha up, off the ground, and it was this moment Franklin came charging toward them, taking a flying leap at the guy who knocked over Trisha and wrestled him to the ground.

"Can we ever go anywhere without someone whipping out a gun or punching someone?" Trisha complained. Pushing Trevor away from her, as any sane person would do. Franklin, stood up, holding something in his hands, as he aimed a kick at the guy and turned around and looked at them, they all stared back.

"Told ya, he's just as fucked up as us," Michael said, almost, no...entirely gloating. Trisha shot him a dirty look. Franklin walked toward them, or so they thought, actually, he walked passed them and over to an edlerly woman.

"Oh, thank you so much, Honey!" the woman said, taking back the purse Franklin was holding. "You're so sweet."

"No problem, Ma'am."

"Shit..." Michael muttered, Trisha raised an eyebrow, making a _'mmhmm_ ' noise as she pursed her lips.

"It doesn't count if he wants to sleep with her!" Trevor announced, as the woman hugged Franklin.

"She's like in her hundreds!" Trisha shot back. "Seriously?"

"Don't mind T, he has issues..."

"You're telling that to the wrong person."

"Hey! Rude..."

 **XXX**

Trisha had all of her things packed up into the back of Trevor's truck, and they drove down the highway, not speaking. Trisha was nervous, but excited, a whole year...a whole year gloriously free of insane, mass murdering, bank robbing idiots. It was more than Trisha could ever ask for. And she had already thought about this, after the year was up, there would be another interview and if they decided she needs to stay longer, she could stay another year. And she would!

Eventually, Trisha was going to turn eighteen and at that moment she could leave without finding an out, just go. And would she want anything to do with them after that? Some days yes, some days no. They did raise her, minus the first seven years, but they also did kill her family... At least Trevor did, and honestly, out of the three Trevor was the one she wanted least to do with. But she also knew it would hurt him too much if she ever told him that.

"I don't have to tell you to play nice," he was saying, as Trisha looked in the rearview mirror at Michael's little black car, following behind them. "You're too nice."

"It's called manors, you don't have those," Trisha told him.

"I don't know where the fuck you learned that..." Trevor retorted "I didn't teach you _manors_!"

"Or how to read...or math," Trisha muttered.

"You were seven, you should've known basic math and reading!" Trevor expained. "It's not my fault your parents were methheads, too busy locking you in a closet."

"Oh...nice, very nice," Trisha nodded, rolling her eyes and looking out, at the passing trees. "You don't know anything about my life before."

"Because I don't care," Trevor said. "They were unfit to raise you."

"And you are?!" Trisha retorted. "A freaking dog is more fit to raise me than you!"

"Hey!" Trevor fought back. "You're clothed, you're fed!"

"Because Michael gives me money!" Trisha yelled. "Money I don't feel right taking, but god knows where you are some days! You sometimes don't even come home for days!"

"I am a very busy businessman..."

 _"Oh_...my god..."

"Trevor Philips inc..." Trevor nodded. "One day it will all be yours."

"If that day ever comes, I'm shooting myself in the face..."

 **XXX**

Trisha jumped out of the truck, once they arrived at the farm, of course she couldn't start unpacking right away, because they had to go over even more paperwork, but as soon as that was over. They headed to the house. Trisha, now more so that she was here, was nervous to meet all the other girls, not having been around any teenagers all her life, she didn't know what to expect.

"You must be Trisha," a rolly-polly type woman, with gray hair, said, as Trisha walked in, a bag full of clothes over one shoulder, and a box full of stuff in her arms. "I'm Miss Tudor, I'm your house mother, I'll be here if you need anything."

"Hi," Trisha said, with a struggle in her voice, but still wanting to be polite. "Um...where will I be staying?"

"The first room on the left," Miss Tudor said. "You'll be sharing with Jasmine, but the girls, they're all outside right now..."

Trisha nodded, and headed down the hall, turning into the first bedroom on the left, there was stuff on they bed closest to the door, so she figured she better take the bed by the window, which suited her just fine anyway. Michael came in right after her, carrying a box of stuff and setting it on the floor.

"Trevor is flirting with your house mother," he said, looking rather put off by this fact. "But ya didn't hear that from me."

"I don't care what he does," Trisha responded, and it was the truth, Michael knew that too, so changed the subject.

"Only fifteen minutes each night for phone calls," he said. "Who do I not have to kill to get at least five of those?"

"No one," Trisha shrugged, turning away from him, opening the box she carried in and looked at her purple towels. "Besides, you probably won't answer anyway."

"I'd always answer the phone for you, Trisha..."

Trisha shrugged again, looking under the towels, there was only bed sheets there. "Where's Mrs P?"

"Trevor has it," Michael said, and she looked over in time to see the look on Michael's face, like he had just ratted out his best friend. It wouldn't be the first time. She growled and stomped out into the living room. There, in Trevor's hands was her bear. She ignored the fact that he was leaning against the desk and had just winked in Miss Tudor's direction.

"Bear, now!" Trisha demanded. Ripping it out of his hands before he could react. She smiled at her new house mother. "When are they supposed to leave? I have all my things out of the car."

"They can stay for awhile," she explained. "Whenever you feel comfortable enough for them to leave."

"Okay, well...bye!" Trisha waved in Trevor's face, right as Michael walked into the room. "See you never."

"The first optional weekend is in two months from now," Miss Tudor explained. "You won't be able to see them until then."

"For two months?!" Trevor roared, unhappily. "No way!"

"I'm afraid so," Miss Tudor nodded. "Yes."

"That's bullshit!" Trevor argued. Michael cut across the room at this point and grabbed Trevor's arm.

"We should go."

"Yeah," Trisha nodded. "Buh-bye!"

Michael stared at her for a moment, then bowed his head and pushed Trevor toward the door.

"It's fucking ridiculous, Mike!" Trevor complained, as they left. Their voices were muffed as soon as the door shut behind them and Trisha sighed in relief. However, Miss Tudor was staring at her now.

"No hugs?"

"Oh," Trisha shrugged. "We never hug."


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 8. Mission: Therapy.**

Trisha stood in front of a group of girls, for the first time ever, in her whole life. She was nervous, as they all introduced themselves, not sure how to react or what to say. There was a blonde one named Denver, a really skinny one, that looked a bit younger than the rest of them, named Belle, and then two with dark hair, one named Olive and the other Dakota. As for her roommate, Jazmine, she had black hair, along with a Spanish vibe, and dressed in all black.

"I'm Trisha," she said, in return, lamely."Hi..."

Luckily for her, they all laughed. "You're funny'" Olive said. "Wanna see my room?"

"Sure," Trisha shrugged, taking in a sharp breath in relief, that she was actually being accepted. The rest of the night went by smoothly, dinner was...better than what she ate with Trevor and Breakfast was cereal, nothing could go wrong there. As for the girls, they were all collectively trying to take Trisha under their wing, and although Trisha appreciated this, she wanted to figure stuff out on her own.

School the next day, was another thing Trisha was worried about, but it was pretty straight forward, they sat in a room, along with the boys: Mickey, Jesus, John, Max, Andy M and Andy P, at least according to Belle. They all just sat around and listened to the teacher, Mrs. Kline and took notes.

Over all, Trisha was having a great time, and hadn't thought about her 'dad's' once since they dropped her off. And honestly, as she walked into lunch, she didn't want to start now...

 **XXX**

Michael sat outside a coffee shop Trevor told him to meet him at, which was odd for Trevor, but at least it wasn't some place worse. Like his strip club, and that way Michael can't be accused of having an affair again...that was nice. It took Amanda three weeks to talk to him again, even though he tried to explain he didn't care about anyone else's boobs but hers, mostly because they cost him so much money...yeah, she didn't like that either.

"Yooo, T!" Michael announced, when Trevor walked in, he didn't look too pleased and Michael had to pause and think about what he might have done in the last few days that might have pissed Trevor off, before continuing. "What's the matter?!"

"Two months, Mikey?! Trevor growled, as he sat down across from Michael. "That's too long!"

"Michael, again, paused for a second, realizing this was about their kid. Trevor was experiencing 'Empty Nest Syndrome,' something sometimes Michael wished he could feel...as both of his kids still lived with, and mooched off of, him. Trisha, he had never really lived with, only for the past few weeks, while she couldn't leave town.

"I've never gone without seeing her for so long!" Trevor groaned, looking near tears. "The house is so empty without her!"

"I know, T..."Michael had to swallow a laugh. Seeing Trevor emotional always made Michael feel a certain type of way, somewhere between horrified and deeply amused. It wasn't that he didn't care about Trevor, it was more... Trevor always acted like a inhuman nut-job, so when he had real emotions, it always surprised Michael. "I'll miss her too..."

"I hate it!" Trevor cried out, covering his face with his hands, which struck Michael as extra fucked up, reading the upside down 'fuck you' on the man's knuckles."I should'a never made her rob that store, M!"

"Hey...you were just trying to show her our world," Michael offered, trying with a bit of comforting , but if this got much worse he was walking. "What you shouldn't have done was let her out of the car...that was fuckin' stupid, or maybe you could've checked the car before blowing it up..."

Trevor stopped sobbing momentarily, and glared up at him. "Fuck you!"

Michael smiled. "Finally back to normal? God damn..."

"I'm upset!"

"I see that..."Michael stated, standing up. "Let's go, get your mind off of it."

Trevor stood up, sluggishly, and tried at half-hearted enthusiasm. "We could stick-up a 24/7?"

"Uhh...how 'bout we just go to a bar?"

"...fine."

 **XXX**

Ahhh...drunk before noon, now that was how life was supposed to be. Trevor sat, eyes droopy, in Michael's car, Franklin in the back seat, because at some point Trevor couldn't exactly remember, Michael had picked him up. He was talking about some bullshit with Michael that he thought they were all too drunk to be dealing with right now.

"I'm in my fuckin' thirties, man, and got nothin' to show for it."

"You have a nice house?" Michael offered, as he drove.

"That I didn't buy..."

"You have a dog?"

"That belongs to Lamar..."

"You got us?!" Trevor chimed in, happily, even though he wasn't exactly sure what they were talking about.

"Shit man, don't remind me," Franklin retorted and Trevor chuckled at that. But Franklin continued. "I got a big ass house I'm livinn' in all the fuck alone! I want a wife, I want kids!"

"Trust me, both are extremely over-rated," Michael said, as he pulled into his own driveway. They all got out and used each other as handrails to get up the few steps. Trevor walked into the living room and fell face first into an overly posh, and too white, couch. Michael and Franklin followed him in, but he had no idea where they were. He just needed to rest his eyes for a minute...

 _"You're all drunk?!_ " he jerked awake at these words being screamed, he didn't lift his head, to see who it was, though, he hardly needed to.

"Calm the fuck down, Amanda, who cares?!" Michael was shouting back now, and silently Trevor was cheering him on, and he also might throw up.

"I have some ladies coming over from the club, you're going to embarrass me!" She was shouting- "AGAIN!" That's exactly what Trevor was thinking. "And what's wrong with him? Is he dead? ...I hope."

"T?" Michael spoke again. "Nah, he's only passed out."

"Well, get him out of here!" Amanda demanded. "All of you get out!"

Trevor felt himself being pulled and yanked, and he squinted open his eyes to be met with Franklin's face, as they stood him up. "You're awake?" he asked. "Can you walk?"

"No..I'd rather be carried by you peasants."

"Man, fuck you, Homie," Franklin let go of him, and Trevor fell back into a strong thing he assumed was Michael. "Your bitch ass can help yourself up."

"Or, you know...fall on me," Michael retorted.

"Yo, M, man...we can hit up my crib?" Franklin offered then. "Watch a movie or something'?"

"Okay," Michael answered, without hesitation. Whenever you offer the man a movie he was always in.

"Will there be alcohol involved?" However, Trevor asked, because if he had to sit there and watch Michael fangirl, he was gonna need something to get through it.

"Shit...I guess so."

"You don't need anymore alcohol," Michael told him, but he completely blew this off. Yes, he definitely did.

"Great. Let's go, Ladies!"

 **XXX**

For Trisha, the next day wasn't exactly as great as the first. She woke up to hear two of the girls fighting over a hair brush, a common occurrence according to Jazmine and after lunch, she was sent up to the office, she didn't know why at first, she certainly hadn't done anything wrong, but it all made sense when she walked in and there was a man with dark, loose, curly hair and a clipboard.

"Trisha, this is Doctor Friedlander," Rachael explained. "Our counselor, we'd like you to have a word with him."

Trisha really couldn't say no, even if she did want to, and she very much did. He led her toward another office, one she hadn't been in yet, this one had a few chairs and a green couch. "Have a seat," he offered, even after she had sat down on the couch. He didn't seem to notice. "So, Trisha..."

"Yeah?" she offered back. She thought this was stupid, she didn't need therapy. She was perfectly fine.

"Trisha De Santa Philips," he said. "That's your full name?"

"Well, actually it's Trisha Crystal De Santa Philips, but yeah...basically my full name."

"I used to know a De Santa," the man explained. "He was...mentally beyond my help. Really, the most ignorant excuse for a human I have ever met."

"Sounds like my dad..." Trisha shrugged. "Both of them..."

"He tried to kill me," Friedlander continued. "He obviously failed, luckily for me...but enough about me. Let's talk about you."

"I'm fine..."

"Now, now...don't be shy," he said."It is my request that I know next to nothing about you kids, so we can build a friendship on our own. How does that sound?"

"Not great," Trisha retorted, the man frowned at her. "No offence or anything, I just don't need therapy."

"The Farm disagrees, I beg your pardon," he retorted. "I was told very little, but what I could piece together is you don't have a very strong bond with your father's. Why do you think that is?"

"Because they're dicks," Trisha resounded , honestly. "I just don't like them as people...it's not their fault, well...I mean, it kinda is."

"What don't you like about them?"

"Everything!" Trisha expressed. "How they act, what they do, how they treat me...how they treat each other."

"I see," Frielander said, writing something down on the clipboard. "I can see they're not very affectionate."

"Never..."

"Miss Tudor mentioned to me she found it very odd they didn't hug you when they left," he said, though continued to write stuff down. "I can assume that's normal?"

"Yeah," Trisha nodded. "I'm not sure either of them have ever hugged me..."

"Huh, well..." He said, in a surprised tone, but said nothing else.

"Is...that all you wanted to know?" Trisha asked, awkwardly, after a moment of neither of them speaking.

"Oh yes, you can go," he said. And she did, standing up and heading for the door. "But, I would like to see you again next week..."

She paused, almost walking out of the door, she turned back, not really sure how she felt about this. "Um...okay.."


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 9. Mission: Dicks and Assholes.**

"Oh, come on, dad!" Tracey whined. "It's only like two thousand...that's barely like any money!"

Michael raised his eyebrow, looking up at his daughter in question. "It is when you haven't got it."

"But I _know_ you have it!"

"I'm not an ATM, I'm your father," Michael explained, sitting there, in the living room, ignoring the news on TV. Tracey sighed, deeply, like he was getting on her nerves. Good! "If you are becoming this big movie star, why are you coming to me for money?"

"Oh, that fell through," Tracey explained, casually. "The guy just wanted nudes..."

Michael face-palmed and looked around the room, flabbergasted. "You're almost thirty years old, Trace, when the fuck are you gonna start acting like it?!"

"What is that supposed to mean?!" Tracey shot back. But Michael didn't care, he was tired of this. He stood up.

"I mean, get a real fuckin' job!" he shouted."Go the fuck back to collage...again, anything! I'm tired of you sluttin' around and taking my money and spending it on bullshit!"

"Are you calling me a slut?!" Tracey yelled. And Michael paused, he couldn't believe, after everything he said, that's all she took from it. "Mom! _Mooom_!"

Michael rolled his eyes, as Amanda walked in, looking annoyed. "What is it?"

"Dad just called me a _slut_!"

Amanda gasped and glared daggers at him, he wouldn't even deny it, even if he hadn't really meant it that way.

"Can you believe him?!" Tracey demanded. "He's such a fucking dick!"

"I know..." Amanda trailed off, looking over to their daughter. "Go upstairs, I'll talk to him."

It struck Michael that it was like they were talking about him like he wasn't even there. Tracey rushed out, looking pleased with herself, and Amanda shot him another dirty look. "What is wrong with you, Michael?!" she demanded. "You've been acting like a dick for weeks, and now you're calling our daughter a slut?!"

"I didn't call her a slut," he admitted. "I said she was acting like a slut..."

"That makes it any better?!"

"I..." But just as he started talking, his phone began ringing and he pulled it out of his pocket to see it was Trevor calling. He looked up and Amanda raised an eyebrow, kind of like he had with Tracey, only much worse. "Shit..." he muttered, pocketing the phone. "I-"

"Aren't you going to answer your boyfriend?"

"Shut the fuck up, Amanda," Michael retorted. "You really think I like him either? He's a fucking lunitic, but I'm stuck with him, and I'm tired of listening to your god damn mouth about him!"

"Oh, yes...I do think you like him, Michael," Amanda retorted back, seemingly ignoring everything else he said. Now he sees where Tracey gets it. "If you didn't you would have pushed him away like you do everyone else."

"That's not fuckin' true!"

"It is true!" she shot back. "You always do this! You take a hundred steps forward, then take a million back. You're never going to change."

"We're seriously going to go through this again, Amnanda?" Michael asked, in all seriousness. "I can't do this again, I don't fucking care!"

"That's your problem, you don't care."

His phone started ringing again, and he didn't have to check it to know that it was Trevor, but he ignored it again. "Why the fuck is it always me?"" Michael demanded. "And you're fucking perfect?! BULLSHIT!"

"Nobody is perfect..."

"Oh...but you try to be," Michael retorted, resorting to petty jabs, that's all he had left at this point. "With your fake boobs and personality to match. I could buy another mansion with all the fucking botox you spent money on...but it's me! Always fucking me! _It's all_ _ **so**_ _ **fucking**_ _clear to me now!_ "

 **XXX**

Trisha walked into the lunch room, she had been here a week now, and although the weekends weren't exactly fun, as you laterally sit around and do nothing, it had been pretty great. She thought it was mostly due to the fact that she hadn't barely thought about Trevor or Michael once, nor had called them yet, and maybe she should feel badly about it... But really didn't.

Jazmine and Olive weren't sitting with the other girls today, Trisha didn't know why, but sat with them anyway. They both looked at her as she did.

"Am I not supposed to sit here?"

"That depends," Jazmine said, seriously. "Are you in?"

"In on what?" Trisha asked, very confused.

"Our plan to break the soda machine to get our money back," Olive explained.

"SHHHH, don't give away the plan, she might not be in on the plan!" Jazmine said, in a whispered yell.

"How do you plan on doing it?" Trisha asked.

"We're going to use this," Jazmine said, even after her rant about Trisha and said plan, and pulled a very large, gold coin out of her school bag. Trisha glared at it.

"A coin from Rats And Cheese?!"

"It's perfect!" Olive expressed. Only Trisha wasn't so sure.

"We'll stick in the coin and it will get stuck inside then we'll hit the button that gives back the money and it will think it's giving me back this, but actually, it's giving me back my money," Jazmine smirked at her plan.

"Why don't you just tell someone it's broke and stole your money?" Trisha offered. That would be a lot easier.

"They won't care," Olive explained. "It's been broken for months."

"Oh..." Trisha trailed off, with a nod.

"So, will you help us?" Jazmine asked, Trisha froze... Not sure what to say, it sounded completely idiotic, but she didn't want them to know that, she wanted them to like her. She liked finally having friends.

"Yeah...okay."

 **XXX**

"Screening my calls, Mikey? Better not be!"

Trevor hung up the phone, after leaving a message for Michael, he looked over at Franklin, who looked rather unsure about his life choices, but that was okay, Trevor would help with that. He typed words into Franklin's computer, a site popped up and he hit Sign Up. Franklin shook his head, Trevor only grinned.

"It doesn't look like Mike's gonna help us," Trevor said, casually, though he was a little disappointed, Michael would have enjoyed this. "So, what do you want your username to be? DownToF?" Trevor offered, Franklin glared at him, but Trevor didn't mind, at least he wasn't looking like he wanted to die now. "For Franklin! And also to fuck...am I right, my N-word?"

"Man...fuck off!" Franklin retorted. Trevor laughed.

"That's a no...Jesus, that's all you had to say."

"Just use my name,."

"Alright, so...Chocolate Thunder," Trevor typed that. Franklin swore. "That's not your name, Mr. Thunder?"

"Can you ever take anythin' fuckin' serious?" Franklin asked...again, Trevor couldn't help but think Franklin took things _too_ seriously. "Give me this mother fuckin' thing!"

Franklin took the laptop off Trevor's lap and began typing things. Trevor watched over his shoulder, offering his advice, like that Franklin sounded more boring than a eighty year old man with a heart condition. "You forgot that you love prunes...prunes more shriveled up than your dick."

"T, I know you bang old bitches," Franklin told him, as he hit submit on his profile. "M told me, so I don't think you should really fuckin' judge."

"A older woman needs to be cherished," Trevor retorted, annoyed.

"I guess it's cool for you, you're old."

"FUCK YOU, I'M NOT OLD!"

Franklin only laughed.

 **XXX**

Trisha stood in the hall way between the lunchroom and the classroom, the three girls had told the teacher they needed to use the restroom, so they had very little time. Trisha was look out, as Jazmine and Olive stood in front of the soda machine, arguing.

"Put it in!" Olive was saying.

"I SAID TO HOLD ON!"

Trisha was getting very worried, they had already been three minutes. "Guys, hurry up!" she called over her shoulder. How did she get herself involved in this? She should be in the classroom...learning things.

"HIT THE BUTTON!" Jazmine was yelling now. There was a bang from behind and then a "AHA, GOT IT!"

"You got the money?" Trisha asked, almost excited by this fact.

"Hell yeah, I did!" Jazmine gloated. Olive cheered. "You know what, Trish...can I call you Trish?"

"Yeah...?"

"I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

 **XXX**

Ring, ring, Trevor looked away from Franklin's computer screen, the man himself was in the bathroom, which was not the best idea. Trevor had already sent three elderly women messages for him. He really did need to learn...

Trevor looked at his phone and saw Michael's name. He smirked, as he answered the phone. "This is Trevor Philips voicemail for shitty best friends who can't answer their phones..."

"Eh...fuck you, T, I was in the middle of something."

"Sorry, there's no beep for shitty friends, go fuck yourself."

" _Trevor..._ "

Trevor notated the tone of upsetness in his shitty friends voice and sighed. "What's the matter with you?"

"I was fighting with Amanda again."

"No offence...no, all the offence, but _so_?"

"She's my fucking wife, T?!"

"I don't care," Trevor explained. "No, Mike, I really don't care. There will never be a time that you two don't fight, so I don't give a fuck."

"Funny, a lot of people say the same thing about you and me."

"That's the kind of people you're attracted to," Trevor explained, like it was so very obvious. Because it was to him. "Wanna know why?"

"I'm not attracted to you..." Michael muttered, sorely. "Even if I didn't, I know you'll tell me anyway."

"You're a dick."

"Oh, thanks..."

"And you're family are assholes."

"Wow...this is so fuckin' enlightening, T!"

"Dicks and assholes don't get along. I'm an asshole...I know I'm an asshole, and you're definitely the biggest dick I've ever met."

Michael laughed. "Good to know."

"Do we fight? Yeah...do I want to use your dead carcass as a hood ornament? Fuck yes! But the difference is, is...we get each other."

"I have no idea what the fuck you're talkin' about..."

"You're family are assholes, Mike."

"Yeah...I got that part, and I'm a dick."

"Glad you finally admitted it," Trevor remarked. "That's years of threapy I just saved you."

"Fuckin,' wonderful... Who should I send the check to?"

"I don't want your money."

"Nah, just my head on a plate..."

"Mmm...We're getting there..."

"Fuck you...so, why'd you call?"

"Me and F made a dating site profile," Trevor expressed, with a dark laugh after, as he looked at the array of old ladies on the screen.

"Why?!"

"We're going to find our darling boy a wife, Mikey!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Part 10. Mission: Five Stars.**

Trisha sat at the table, the art table in the living room, she was minding her own business, hoping no one found out about the soda machine thing, when Jazmine and Olive sat down on both sides of her. She looked up at them, concerned.

"What?"

"We just want to tell you how awesome you are," Jazmine said, with a smile.

"Yeah...not everyone can be someone's look-out," Olive added. Trisha smiled, shrugging.

"I really didn't do anything..."

"Oh, please!" Jazmine expressed, pushing Trisha's shoulder lightly. "Don't be modest!"

"We were thinking you could help us with something else," Olive said, excited, Jazmine looked across at her, with a stern look. Olive shrugged her off. "Phoebe, you know her right?"

"Yeah, she half owns this place, is married to Dean...we had my second interview with them," Trisha said, worried, even more now, but interested to see why Olive was talking about her.

"Of course you did..." Olive laughed at her dumbness. "Anyway, I was listening to my ICase a few weeks ago and Phoebe came in and took it off me. I want it back!"

"Trisha was surprised by this, Pheobe seemed pretty nice to her. "Why'd she do that?"

"You know how they want you to be at a five star, yeah?" Olive asked, as Trisha nodded along. It was true, they wanted you to get five stars everyday, each star represented different things, like your chores, how you treat the other kids and such. Trisha had been a three steady, so far. "Well, I got a zero and...apparently zero's can't listen to music."

"She took it to the office," Jazmine added. "If you can distract Rachael tomorrow me and O can sneak in and get it back."

"Won't they notice it's gone?" Trisha asked, very, _very_ unsure about this. "Why don't you just wait for her to given it back?"

"She won't, they never remember stuff like this," Jazmine explained. "They're dumb-asses."

"Yeah," Olive agreed. "I'll just take it home the next time we're off."

"So...you'll help us?"

Trisha's heart beat faster, _oh_...she didn't want to, but Jazmine and Olive really seemed to like her. "Okay...fine, I guess." They cheered and Jazmine punched Trisha in the shoulder. She couldn't help but feel sick at the thought of tomorrow, she only half heartedly smiled back. Why was she so dumb?

"Trisha?" Miss Tudor called, suddenly, making her jump, _did she know?_ As she turned around and looked at her though, she was smiling sweetly. "It's your dad."

Trisha wanted to ask which one, but didn't, that would be weird...shouldn't she just know which one it was? She stood up and took the phone from her. "Hello?

"Hellllloo, Honey Buns!" she heard Trevor's grough, annoying, voice on the other end. She sighed.

"Hi, Trevor." She smiled at Miss Tudor's curious look and walked back over to the table and sat.

"How are you?" Trevor asked, more serious now. "It's been a week and I haven't heard anything...I don't like that!"

"Sorry...I was really busy," Trisha lied, she really hadn't been all that busy. "How are you?"

"Oh...great, I made Franklin a profile on a dating site."

"Why?" Trisha asked, she found that weird, but it was Trevor, after all.

"He needs a wife," Trevor explained. "He knows about it."

"Oh, that's good, at least he knows..." Trisha trailed off. Trevor laughed, for apparently no reason.

"I'm messaging all the old ladies in Los Santos for him...he needs a mature lady in his life."

"No!" Trisha retorted. "He needs babies."

"He could adpot!"

"Trevor! Trisha said, sternly. She could hear him sigh over-dramatically. "Okay...if they're pretty, but only if they're pretty!"

"Every woman is pretty in their own way, Trisha, remember that," Trevor told her. "If any guy tells you otherwise I'll rip out his throat!"

Trisha laughed, dryly, "That would have been really nice except for the last part..."

"Five minutes, Trisha!" Miss Tudor called.

"I gotta go," Trisha said. "Don't kill anyone and stop trying to hook F up with crusties, okay?"

"I can't promise either, Baby Girl," Trevor retorted. "Call soon."

"Okay..." Trisha said, but had no intention to, and then hung up. Olive and Jazmine, who were still sitting there, stared at her.

"That was your dad?" Olive asked, Trisha nodded. "Wow...you talk to him like that?"

"We have a odd relationship."

 **XXX**

Trevor hung up the phone, feeling a bit empty inside, he really didn't like being alone anymore, he used to. He looked down at his laptop, signed into Franklin's dating site again. He was browsing through profiles now, bored.

"RON!" Trevor shouted. As he clicked next, he heard bangs and crashing coming from next door, he rolled his eyes, as he hit next again. Suddenly a picture caught his eye. She looked like a deranged peacock in this picture, but it couldn't be anyone else. All that work she's done on her body...yet never fixed that nose. ROOOOOOOOON!"

"What, Trevor?' Ron said, with labored breath, as he crashed through Trevor's door.

"Look at this!" Trevor said, turning the computer toward him. "It says she was active six hours ago!"

"I d-...I don't know her, Trevor," Ron muttered. "Is she a friend of yours?"

Trevor knew what Ron was implying. "Nooo!" he retorted. "She's no friend of mine. That's Michael's wife!"

"Oh..." Ron became flustered. "...so?"

"IT'S A DATING SITE!" Trevor roared. "Is nothing sacred anymore?!"

"But, Trevor, you said you don't believe in marriage?"

Trevor glared daggers. " _ **I**_ don't!" Trevor stood up, throwing his computer aside. "But, for some fucked up reason Mikey does!"

" _Oh._.." Ron nearly moaned. "Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know..." Trevor muttered, thinking. "Get me a beer."

"Of course..." Ron muttered, turning to the fridge.

 **XXX**

Michael walked into Trevor's strip club, glasses on, but the door greater still said. "Afternoon, Mr. De Santa," which made Michael realize that this wasn't a movie, and people would still know him. He only hoped no one told Amanda he was here again. He walked into the back, where Trevor sat behind the desk in the office, on the computer. He turned it off and jumped back when he noticed Michael there.

"Oh, come on, T, I'm not your mom, I don't care if you were watching porn," Michael joked, but Trevor didn't laugh. "What's wrong now?"

Trevor only stared at him for a long moment, making Michael uneasy, before he finally spoke. "Mikey..." Trevor stood up and walked over to him. Michael had no idea what was happening. "I don't know how to say this..."

"Just say it, Trevor," Michael said, he couldn't take this, whatever the fuck it was. "Whatever it is can't be that bad."

" _Oooh_...it's bad, Mike," Trevor explained. "You're not gonna like it."

"Just fuckin' tell me already!"

"Michael, your...-"

"My fucking _WHAT_ , T?!"

"..your family is an asshole."

"Oh my god!" Michael retorted, almost in a shout, Trevor smiled, if only slightly, at this. "This bullshit again? You almost gave me a fuckin' heart attack!"

"Look, Mike," Trevor said, seriously. "You don't need 'em. They're losers. They're holding you back, using you."

"Listen," Michael said. He didn't like what Trevor was saying, but he could sense the heart was in it. "I appreciate it, but it's fine. Families fight, T, but we'll get through it, we always do."

"That's bullshit, Michael," Trevor retorted, darkly. "You won't get over it, you'll just bury it under the rug like everything else!"

"You don't know that!" Michael fought back, getting angry this time. Trevor really had no business saying any of this anyway. "Why don't you back the fuck off? I don't know who the fuck you think you are..."

"You're god damn best friend!" Trevor fought back, looking very pissed off, suddenly. "Not that you give a single _FUCK_ about me, you brainwashed piece of shit!"

"Hey!" Michael shouted. "You're the one that called me down here to tell me my family are assholes! AGAIN!"

"BECAUSE THEY ARE ASSHOLES, MICHAEL!" Trevor shouted, louder, back. "FUCKING ASSHOLES!"

"GO FUCK YOURSELF!"

"NO!" Trevor yelled, following Michael out, as he kicked open the back door and walked outside."Y _OU GO FUCK YOURSELF_!"

Michael ignored him, as he walked around the building and got into his car. He couldn't help but laugh a little, as he drove off. "This fuckin' lunatic..."

 **XXX**

Trisha walked into the office, not sure exactly how she was going to distract Rachael, and Olive's thumbs up didn't really help any, as she closed the door behind her. Rachael was sitting at the desk, as always. She looked up, with a raised eyebrow, when she noticed Trisha there.

"Yes?" she asked, lips pursed together. Trisha took a deep breath, saying the first thing that came to mind.

"I hate my dads..." Rachael's eyes widened a little. Trisha continued. "I wanted to talk to Doctor Frielander about it..."

"That's something you need to tell Miss Tudor, so she can send an email," Rachael explained. Trisha nodded, but she needed to get Rachael out of the main part of the office, so Jazmine and Olive could find the ICase.

"Can I just talk to you about it?" she asked, with a pleading stare. "My dad called last night and..."

"Oh...I see," Rachael said, standing up and taking that journal she liked to write in so much. Trisha smirked to herself, as she followed Rachael down the hall. That was a lot easier than she thought...

 **XXX**

"Fuck...man, what the fuck are you gonna do?" Franklin asked, as Trevor showed him Amanda's dating profile. Trevor shrugged, as he stood up from Franklin's dining table.

"I tried to tell him but I fucking chocked!" Trevor shouted."CHOCKED!"

Franklin nodded, with a smile, which Trevor glared at him for. "Sorry, Homie, just you always say whatever the fuck you want, for you to choke, it..."

"It means I fucking care?!" Trevor retorted. "I know... _I hate it_!"

"We just gotta tell Michael together-"

"Tell Michael what?"

The two looked up to see Michael walking in, through Franklin's front door. They both froze.

"Me and F, we're in love..."

"Like fuck we are!" Franklin ruined it, Trevor glared at him again. So, Trevor tried another tactic.

"What the fuck are _you_ doing here, Michael?!"

Michael paused, as he walked near them. Franklin quickly jumped forward and turned off his computer. Michael looked at him strange.

"What the fuck is going on?" he asked, instead of answering Trevor's question. "What are you two not tellin' me?"

Franklin and Trevor looked at each other, Franklin looked as perplexed as Trevor felt. He hated it, it was so unlike himself to actually care, he hated caring. He hated people _who cared_.

"Fuck off, Mike," Trevor told him. Maybe if he pissed him off enough he would just leave. "No one gives a flying fuck about you or your opinion. Me and F will figure our own shit out! Right, Frank?!"

"Um.,.ef-" Franklin didn't even try. Michael's face turned dark, his eyes clouded. Trevor could tell he was getting him there, just a little bit more and they would be in a screaming match.

"No one wanted you to show up!" Trevor exclaimed, throwing his hands around. "You fucking door-mate!"

"Go fuck yourself!" Michael retorted. "I didn't come here to see you! I came to see Franklin!"

"Yeah?" Trevor shot back. "He doesn't want to see you!"

"I never fuckin' said-" But Franklin was cut off. He looked very alarmed.

"Excuse me..." Michael trailed off, dangerously. "I didn't know you two were so fucking close now!"

"WE ARE!" Trevor roared back. "WE DON'T NEED A BACK STABBER AS A FRIEND ANYMORE!"

Michael paused, again, looking very hurt, but also, even more so pissed off. He took a step nearer, toward Trevor, and quickly Franklin blocked him.

"Whoa...M, Chill the fuck out-"

"I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU IN NORTH YANKTON WHEN I HAD THE FUCKIN' CHANCE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

"M, c'mon, man-"

"I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU TWENTY YEARS AGO BEFORE YOU HAD THE CHANCE TO FUCK ME OVER!"

"And I should've killed both ya'lls bitch asses when I had every motherfucker and their fuckin' brother tellin' me to!" Franklin retorted, taking his hands and pushing at both of them, to back off. Trevor did, looking hurt toward Franklin, hand over his chest.

" _Why would you say that?!_ " he demanded. Franklin seemed to realize himself and frowned.

"Ya'll are just a lot sometimes..." He muttered, Michael laughed.

"We're more than a lot," he said, with a, very unexpected, smile toward Trevor. "We're in-fucking-sane!"

Trevor shrugged and grinned at that, as he hadn't really ever been angry anyway, again, very unusual for him. "Speak for yourself, Mikey."

Michael nodded, looking amused still. "Whatever you say, T..."


End file.
